Depraved

Building Blocks Of Friendship

Felix took him to a different tub, because if they were going to put themselves in the same situation, they should at least change the color scheme.

Minho removed his clothes much faster than the first time. He had bruising on his forearm, his shoulder, around each wrist and ankle. The punctures were healing a lot better now though- some of them weren't even slightly pink beneath the skin. He could tell that the holes had closed inside- only the surface wound remained.

The water steamed and his mind began to get fuzzy. Minho stepped into the tub. All business. Felix found himself moving closer, crouching down beside him. He didn't even really react beyond a gentle lift of one shoulder. Like a protective flinch. It soon lowered. He sighed, looking slightly relaxed.

The bar of soap was fresh. Unscented. He slid it over his skin, pushing bubbles around. Making the milky paleness of his flesh even paler. Felix realized how near to porcelain it was and wondered how dark he could get in the sun, or if he'd just burn pink and shiny.

Minho's hands had quit moving. He was holding the bottle of shampoo but hadn't opened it. "Uh. 'Lix?"

"Yeah?"

"Your... finger."

Felix jolted, realizing that he'd hooked his pointer finger over the human's right knee. Almost as if to spread his legs a little wider. He ripped it away, heart pounding. "I'm sorry. Sorry."

"It's okay." But his hands were shaking, moving the water in ripples.

"It's not."

"Really Felix. It's fine."

"It's NOT." He stood. Turned his back on him and all his beautifully marked skin, his fearful eyes. He didn't want Minho to be afraid of him anymore.

"If you want... you can... you can wash my hair?"

Felix hadn't seen what was in Jisung's mind. He was far too sensitive to cruelty, so his lovers hadn't told him about it either. Because of this, he missed the dulled-down expression on Minho's face- unaware that it was the same expression he'd always worn when Chanyeol used to talk to him. Like carefully projected boredom.

"You want me to?"

His eyes dimmed further. "Yes. I want you to."

A near-truth. Felix pulled the bottle out of his hand, set it down on the side, and knelt behind him. When he grabbed his shoulders and drew him back, the human practically thrashed, gripping the sides of the tub with tight, dripping fingers.

Minho's shoulders bumped up as he grimaced. "Sorry."

"No problem. I'm just going to wet your hair."

"Ah- okay."

"Lay back Minho."

"Ah, right."

He floated in his palms. Most of the suds had disappeared, making the water lightly opaque. It was dreamy, having the human so close again. He tried to focus on the way his thick strands slid through his fingers, the way goosebumps bubbled over his exposed skin as he massaged the shampoo and then conditioner in. Contentedness rumbled in his chest. He was taking care of him well. Minho seemed comfortable.

"All done."

"Thanks 'Lix."

Felix pulled the plug, distracted by the rock of his hips as he stepped out, the water dripping along the strong line of his back. They stared at each other for a moment and then the blond jumped, turning to grab the towel.

As he spun back around, he noticed Minho looking at himself in the mirror.

There was another careful expression. Everything about Minho was so guarded. It must be exhausting.